


The Definition of Love, Redux

by Rainia_Nytewolf1



Category: The Tudors
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainia_Nytewolf1/pseuds/Rainia_Nytewolf1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I've finally joined Ao3! You may know me as Rainia Nytewolf on fanfiction.net. For anyone that's interested, I've finally given in and joined Twitter if anyone's interested in following me, you can find me on there as rainianightwolf.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I've finally joined Ao3! You may know me as Rainia Nytewolf on fanfiction.net. For anyone that's interested, I've finally given in and joined Twitter if anyone's interested in following me, you can find me on there as rainianightwolf.

She'd thought this "Great Matter" of Henry's would be done by now and she'd sit upon the throne as his queen. Her father kept telling her it was only a matter of time but Anne for one was getting sick of it. She had no idea how much longer she could keep the king's interest as long as she was not his wife. He'd housed her in lavish quarters that were almost fitting for a queen, but Katherine remained in the Queen's chambers. The thought that her rival was still Henry's recognized wife and queen still irked her greatly.

Stripping off her riding gloves, she headed towards her chambers. A passing page boy bowed briefly to her, but was impeded by the shirts that were folded neatly in his arms. They looked oddly familiar, she thought before it dawned on her. Those were the same kind of shirts Henry wore, that... KATHERINE made! "Give me those," she demanded, reaching out and yanking one from the boys arms. Fury tore through her as she recognized the neat stitching that Katherine was known for. With a whirl of skirts, she changed direction from her chambers and headed directly to Henry's.

Without waiting for her presence to be announced, she stormed inside and threw the shirt at Henry, who caught it out of reflex. "How could you?" she demanded, her dark eyes flashing,

Frowning down at the shirt in his hands, he looked up at Anne in confusion. "Sweetheart, what's this? What's the matter?"

"She still sews your shirts!" Anne's voice rose in a feverish pitch, even as she tried her best to keep from becoming hysterical in front of Henry. He'd made it clear that he hated it when women became hysterical in front of him about trivial matters, but to her this was no trivial matter. He wanted to marry her, thus she should be the one to make his shirts, not Katherine.

Glancing down at the shirt again, he noted that it was indeed, one of the ones that he'd requested Katherine to make for him. He'd never once imagined it would be such an issue but clearly Anne was affronted by the idea. Katherine had made his shirts since they'd married, and even though this damn divorce was taking far long than it should, he'd seen no reason for her to not continue making them.

"You cannot have three people in a marriage," Anne's voice breaks into his thoughts, and he looked up to see her glaring at him furiously.  
Rounding the great desk he'd been at when she'd barged in, he approached her slowly. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, the shirt still hanging from one hand, he gently put his arms around her. "I'll take care of this at once, sweetheart," he promises, capturing her gaze with his own as he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Her temper receded and she smiled up at him wanly. "I'm sorry, Henry, it's just..."

"I know, darling," he assured her gently. "I promise, you won't have to worry about this anymore."

* * *

"His Majesty, the King!"

Almost as one, Katherine's ladies rose, setting their sewing aside and curtsying as Henry made his into her chambers. "Henry," she greeted, following her ladies' example and setting aside the shirt she'd been sewing to be distributed to the poor and rising. "You may leave us," she directed at her ladies, who curtsied and gathered their sewing, skirting around the king and filing out.

"Katherine," he began but the words he'd been intending on telling her died in his throat at he stared at her. When she'd failed to provide him with a living son, he'd sworn he loved her no longer. It had gotten worse when Lady Blount had given birth to little Henry Fitzroy and he'd started to discreetly look for a way out of their marriage. Now, as he looked at her, the memories of their relationship came back to him. He'd been so proud to escort her the day she'd married Arthur, and had actually fancied himself already a little in love with his brother's bride.

He'd soon forgotten about it until Arthur died and he'd been so taken with the idea of rescuing her from her widowhood. The lovely Spanish princess had no friends in England, his father having made her send her Spanish ladies back to Spain. He'd privately resolved to marry her, regardless of anyone's wishes. When Henry VII had died, his father had begged him to send her back to Spain and marry someone else. They'd been so happy, he remembered wistfully. He'd felt like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere, and the entire nation had celebrated their marriage and coronation.

Then, tragedy had struck in the form of the various miscarriages she'd had throughout their marriage. They'd mourned together the loss of their children, including little Henry, who'd died in his mother's arms a couple weeks into life. They did have Mary, the girl who he'd deemed the pearl of his world, but Mary was not the son he needed.

"Henry?" Katherine's voice, still tinged with the Spanish of her youth, startled him out of his silent reverie. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the shirts I made?"

The shirt Anne had thrown at him mere moments ago was still clutched tightly in his hand and he looked down at it before his gaze returned to her. 'I still love her,' he realized, the thought hitting him like a lance to the gut. It wasn't possible! He loved Anne now, not Katherine. Anne would give him the son he longed for, the son England longed for, he was almost sure of it! _If that's true, why did you not have Katherine removed from court long before this?_ A dark voice whispered in his mind, so loud and clear that for a moment he felt the urge to turn around and see who was speaking to him. _Why allow your Great Matter to continue at all? If you are so certain that your marriage is invalid..._

"I still love you," he finally says aloud, the truth of his words sinking in as they leave his mouth. He feels like he's naked, he's so vulnerable in this moment as he waits for her to say something, anything. When she finally does speak, he couldn't have been more surprised if she'd reached out and slapped him.

"You certainly have an interesting way of showing it, Henry," she tells him, the harshness of her words not lost on her. Part of her wants to hurt him like he's hurt hurt her over the years. She'd shut her eyes and looked away as he'd picked his mistresses from her own ladies. When Elizabeth Blount had given Henry a living son, something she'd failed to do, she'd even shown up at the celebration and toasted the little boy's health. As much as she wanted to dislike the little boy, she couldn't bring herself to do so. It was hardly the child's fault that he'd been born the boy that should have been hers. Now, as Henry's so-called 'Great Matter' dragged on, and he still insisted on making a fool of himself with that Boleyn whore, she felt as though she couldn't shut her eyes any longer.

Flinching almost imperceptibly at the obvious barb, Henry gazed at her beseechingly. She had to see that he loved her still, that he would end this thing and take her back! The people were not happy that he was trying to set aside the woman they adored and accepted as Queen. He was young still, and though Henry Fitzroy was a bastard, there were ways he could work around that to name the boy his heir. "Please, Katherine... I want to give you another chance..." he murmured, voice pleading like he was a child again.

The absolute absurdity of Henry forgiving her caused an unamused laugh to escape Katherine before she could quash it. Forgive her? Forgive her for what? She'd done nothing wrong. Who was to say that because she couldn't give Henry a living son that it would have been any different had Arthur lived and become king? God had seen fit not to give her any living sons and though it pained her greatly, she was not one to question the will of God. "You want to give _me_ another chance, Henry?" she finally asked, shaking her head and laughing bitterly. "Henry, I don't know if I can give _you_ another chance."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed toward her bedchamber. When he didn't say anything or try to stop her, she pushed open the door and entered, gently shutting it behind her.


	2. Chapter Two

Feeling weak-kneed, Katherine slumped against the door to her private chambers. "Madre de dios," she whispered, raising a shaking hand to her mouth. Where had her sudden boldness come from? She'd always striven to be a dutiful and obedient wife like the bible said she should be, first to Arthur and then to Henry. It had hurt her more than she'd ever let on when Henry began taking mistresses, especially when they ended up being one of her own ladies.

When it became common knowledge that Anne Boleyn was being pursued by Henry, Katherine had suspected that it wouldn't last. He'd had many women over the years and none of them had lasted. Lady Blount had even succeeded where she had failed, giving Henry and living son, and he'd discarded her as well. Why should Anne be any different? she'd reasoned to herself.

Yet, here they were, almost three years later and Henry had yet to drop this divorce matter. Anne had been removed from her place amongst her ladies-in-waiting, and given chambers almost fit for a queen. Tonight, however, was proof that this whole thing was beginning to wear on him. He'd come to her and she knew that he was planning on telling her to no longer make his shirts. Why else would he have one in his hands? She was still his wife and she looked at it as part of her duties as his lawful wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she moved towards the door leading to her private chapel. Silently, she went straight to the statue of the Blessed Virgin, lighting the candles set around the base. Removing the rosary from around her neck, she wrapped it around her hands and knelt, looking up. The Virgin's face was serene as always, her eyes full of compassion and a secret smile on her lips. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus," she murmured, the familiar prayer relaxing her as it always did."Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

Should she forgive Henry? she wondered, staring blankly in front of her, though she already knew the answer. The bigger question was if she could forgive him. She'd forgiven him so many times before and yet each time, he'd turned around and hurt her worse than before. Sighing, she shook her head morosely and began praying again. Hopefully, God would hear her prayers and guide her to a solution, one that reconciled her with Henry.

Lively music and the low, constant murmur of a great many people conversing filled the great hall. Ladies and gentlemen dressed in some of their finest clothing promenaded back and fourth under the watchful eye of the king, who sat on a raised dais at the head of the hall. A goblet of wine dangled from his hand, and he seemed almost distracted. Dancing with a young man of the court, whose name she'd failed to remember, Anne cast a fleeting glance towards Henry. Before, when the court would make merry, Henry would watch her like a hawk. Tonight was the first night since their courtship began that he failed to watch her with a lustful glint in his eye.

The music came to an end, causing the dancers to stop and clap politely. Bowing and curtsying, some of the dancing couples moved away while others lined up for the next dance. Anne made her excuses and moved away, heading over to a young man holding a violin. "Lady Anne," he greeted, bowing low and placing a gentle kiss atop her outstretched hand.

"Master Smeaton," Anne replied, smiling warmly at the musician. He was a handsome one, she noted, and very talented with his instrument. If nothing else, Henry was sure to pay attention to her now. "You play very well. Could you show me?"

"With pleasure, my lady," he agreed, moving around to stand behind her. Propping the violin on her shoulder, he placed the bow in her left hand and showed her how to press down the strings with her right. Aligning his arm along hers, he helped her to gently move the bow across the body of the instrument. She tossed him a pleased smile over her shoulder, delighting in learning something new, even as her eyes moved to where Henry sat.

Charles had been watching Henry all night, and now that the next dance had started, he seized his chance to approach him. Something was clearly on the other man's mind, though what that might be, he couldn't even begin to imagine. As soon as Henry noticed his approach, he was motioned to come closer. Stepping up next to the king's chair, he stood beside him silently for a few moments. "Is something the matter, Henry?" he muttered, low enough so only the king could hear him.

Henry simply grunted, eyes moving over the crowd of dancers blankly. His eyes rested on Anne Boleyn, who was being shown a tune by Mark Smeaton, the courts newest musician."I'm beginning to think, Charles, that perhaps I'm making a huge mistake," he began, keeping his tone as low as the Duke had mere moments ago. Startled, Suffolk gazed at Henry for a long moment before following the king's line of sight and landing on Anne. Before he could remark on the king's odd words, his friend was speaking again. "Meet me in my chambers in one hour."

"Yes, your Majesty," Charles agreed with a bow, curiosity coursing through him but he ruthlessly shoved it back down. Rising, he noticed Anne leading Mark Smeaton towards the king. Excusing himself, the Duke moved away, blending into the crowd before departing the hall.

Weary to the core, Henry sat slumped in one of the plush chairs set before the fireplace of his ante chamber. A roaring fire blazed before him, and he stared morosely into the flames. He'd done his best to not let Anne realize that anything was wrong, but he wasn't sure if he'd succeeded. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand down his face, looking away from the flames when Charles was shown inside. "Charles," he greeted, gesturing to the other chair less than a foot away from his own.

"Henry," the Duke greeted, bowing slightly out of habit before sitting in the free chair. Pouring a goblet of wine, he raised it in the king's direction. "Your health," he told him, causing Henry to give a small smile and nod. Taking a sip, he murmured appreciatively before focusing on the king. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Katherine's been making my shirts still, even with this divorce business," he began, straightening up in his chair and shifting uncomfortably. "Lady Anne discovered this, and when she made a fuss, I promised I'd put a stop to it."

Charles had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Mary had told him that she wouldn't come to court so long as her brother acted the fool over Lady Anne, and now he could honestly say that he didn't blame her. Throwing a fit over shirts? His wife was sure to laugh at that when he wrote to her next. "And?" he prompted when Henry lapsed into silence.

"When I went to speak with Katherine, I looked at her and realized that... that I still love her," the king finally muttered, running a hand through his close cropped hair.

Having just taken another sip of wine, Charles nearly choked as Henry's words impacted on him. Henry was still in love with Katherine? Henry had become determined to divorce his queen in order to marry Anne and father a legitimate male heir and now, going on three years later, he was realizing that he still loved the queen? Clearing his throat, he set aside his goblet before he dropped it. "What are you going to do about it, Majesty?"

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Henry gave a disgusted sigh. "I told Katherine I would give her another chance, and she refused me. Told me she wasn't sure if she wanted to give me a second chance." Lapsing into silence for a minute, his next words shocked Charles even more. "I want her back, Charles."

"What about Lady Anne?" Charles ventured, knowing his friend's predisposition to rash decisions. Henry would declare his undying love for a tree if it offered him shade or for a woman to get her into bed. It would absolutely destroy Katherine if she and Henry reconciled and then he changed his mind in a year or a month. He, for one, was too fond of the queen to allow that to happen.

"She'll survive," Henry answered cryptically, mind already turned to how to best win Katherine back. "I just want my wife back."


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes - This was an incredibly difficult chapter to write, mainly due to the sweating sickness. A great deal of dialogue in this chapter is taken from the script from Episode 1.07, with minor changes obviously. I didn't write the script, so I'm putting a disclaimer up for this chapter. I don't own anything, so please refrain from suing me. As always, read and review. I will respond to you, even if it's just a quick thank you.

Anne could practically feel Henry's adoration for her waning and the idea that he was tiring of her nearly sent her into a painc. Her uncle Norfolk and her father were furious, wondering what it was that she had done to fall into disfavor with the king. He'd understood her problem with Katherine making his shirts, he'd said so himself. So what could she possibly have done? The dance she'd arranged at court had went off without a hitch, but she knew that something was off with him. Since they'd met, Henry had always watched her with a lustful gaze, growing jealous when another man held her attention for a prolonged amount of time. Something had changed that night, though, for he'd seemed distracted and uncaring.

He'd surprised her by inviting her with him to visit his friend, William Compton, at Compton's estate. Perhaps she wasn't losing his favor after all? They'd dined together, and even taken turns feeding one another bites of fruit and sweetmeats. Now, as they rode silently into the woods surrounding Wynates, her father's words rang in her mind. 'Maybe you can do something to… prolong his interest?' Surely this wasn't what her father had in mind, but it was the only thing she could think of to keep Henry's dismounted almost as one, and were upon each other in moments. Even as he labored above her, she felt a keen sense of satisfaction with herself. This was sure to keep him, she reasoned silently, winding her arms around his neck and bringing him down for a kiss.

Like a thief in the night, the sweating sickness struck London without warning. Sore, but entirely pleased with herself, Anne rode beside Henry as they entered the streets of London leading to Whitehall. Smiling, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes, relieved when he returned her smile just as easily. A dull roar could be heard in the distance, which caused Henry's smile to quickly turn into a frown. The closer they got, the louder it became and above the smell of horses and London in general, a horrible stench assaulted them. "What is that smell?" Anne heard her brother remark from behind them before it became abundantly clear just what the smell was: vinegar.

Horror swept through Henry, who had recognized the smell almost immediately. "It's vinegar!" he cried out, his mind whirling in terror. Vinegar could only mean one thing and that was that the dreaded sweat had come to London. Katherine! Did she know, was she safe?

Guards dressed in the green and white Tudor livery were holding back the crowd that had gathered outside the palace. A group of men that normally assisted Dr. Linacre in his duties, swathed in their somber black, awaited him just inside the courtyard. A young page stepped forward to take the reins of Henry's mount, only to nearly be knocked off his feet by the king as he launched himself from the saddle. "What has happened?" he demanded almost immediately, rushing to the side of the waiting men.

"Your Majesty, there's been an outbreak of the sweating sickness in the city," one man replied, his tone grave,"300 deaths reported this day."

300, dead already? The number shook him to the core. If this dreaded disease was spreading that quickly, they needed to act fast. "Fetch Dr. Lincare immediately," he directed at another man, who bowed and hurried off. "What about my wife, the queen? What about my wife?!" he asked, even as the men began ushering him inside. Any thoughts of Anne left him and he didn't bother looking back.

"Go pack your things, both of you," Thomas Boleyn ordered, pushing the fear of Henry losing his interest in Anne away, if only momentarily. The king was notorious in his fear of illness, and naturally he would be more concerned with Katherine first. It was imperative they escape to the country air immediately, especially with the threat of the sweat looming over them in London. They would go to their home in Kent and recoup there, he decided, dismounting and following his children into the castle. From there, they could plot how to both bring down Wolsey and keep Anne in the king's heart. Perhaps, when this whole divorce mess came to an end and Katherine was set aside, he would be the father of the next Queen of England!

Anne's chambers were a flurry of activity, her ladies rushing hastily to get her things ready to leave at once. Anne, in the midst of directing the women around her, looked towards a young lady who had suddenly stopped, looking pale. "Child, what is it?" she questioned, a horrible feeling of dread creeping into the pit of her stomach.

"Nothing, madam, I just felt a little dizzy," the woman replied, catching herself on a nearby wall.

"Well, come here,"Anne replied, gesturing to a chair that sat nearby.

Panic lit the woman's features as she shook her head rapidly. "No, I-I still feel dizzy... I... that's it, I've caught the sweat!" she cried, looking at Anne with complete helplessness.

"No, gentle child," Anne hastened to reassure her, glancing at the other ladies who'd all paused, clearly wishing they could run from the room. "It's just a headache."

"It's not," the girl denied, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "I have pains in my stomach. Isn't that a sign? How can you deny it?" she questioned frantically, when Anne shook her head mutely. "I'm going to die!"

"No, you're not going to die," Anne replied fiercely, moving to the woman's side. "Listen to me. You are not going to die. Now, come here," she coaxed, drawing the now sobbing woman in her arms.

Knocking briskly, Henry didn't wait for a response before entering Katherine's chambers. Katherine, standing by her ladies and helping them to pack her jewels, looked up and granted him a brief smile, causing his gut to clench in response. "I've come to say goodbye," he informed her, trying his best to remain formal, when he'd much rather gather her in his arms and not let her out of his sight until this dreaded sickness passed. Her pleasure at seeing him visibly diminished with those five words and he suddenly felt like kicking himself.

"Are you pleased to be sending me away?" she questioned, picking up her casket of jewels and making her way to stand before him. Raising her chin defiantly, she looked him square in the eye, as if daring hm to contradict her.

"You do not want to see our daughter?" he replied in turn, looking distinctly uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze. One of the things he'd always admired about his wife was her ability to make people feel utterly defenseless, but now that he was on the receiving end of it, he found it quite disconcerting.

"You send me away so you can be with her," she ground out, disgusted by the idea. He had a strange way of showing her that he wanted her back, leaving for a trip to the country with Anne earlier that week and just now returning.

"No, she's not-," he began in denial before frowning at her. She sincerely thought he was sending her away to be with Anne? "You mean the Lady Anne Boleyn?"

"Yes, I mean the Lady Anne Boleyn. You make no secret of her," she spat, moving away from him and setting her jewel casket, taking a moment to compose herself.

"No, she's going back to Hever," he replied, glancing at her turned back before continuing, "one of her maids died of the sweat in front of her."

"And your fear of the sweat is greater than your infatuation with your mistress?" she asked, turning around to face him directly.

"Leave us," he directed towards his wife's ladies-in-waiting, who immediately curtsied and promptly left the room. "Katherine, she is not my mistress. I do not sleep with her, not whilst you and I are still married," he told her, though his conscience squirmed unpleasantly as he remembered his and Anne's trip to Wynates.

Moving towards him slowly, she stopped before him. "But do you tell her that you love her? Do you make promises to her? Does she make promises to you? Will you not tell me since, as you say, I am still your wife?"

As he met her gaze, a part of him wished desperately that he could tell her again that he no longer loved her. "Katherine, I wish..." he began before trailing off. He wished that he could take it all back, every bit of it. He wished he could get her to love him again, as she had before this whole mess with Anne and the divorce had started. Most of all, he wished he knew the words to say to make this right between them and show her he loved her still. He jumped slightly when her hand reached up to gently caress his cheek and he realized that he'd spoken aloud. Eyes shining with tears, he met her gaze even as he reached up to cover her hand on his cheek with his own.

Seeing the lost little boy look on his face made Katherine's heart ache. He'd seemed genuinely sincere in his remorse this time, but how many times had she thought the same thing over the years? "Henry, I have forgiven you many things," she began softly, wincing inwardly at seeing the hope beginning to blossom in his eyes, "but I do not know how to forgive you this time."

Her words struck him like a physical blow and he collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as he wrapped both arms around her waist and buried his face in her voluminous skirts. She had to find a way to forgive him, she just had to! When he felt her arms go around him in an unspoken gesture of comfort, he sobbed even harder. I will make it up to you, Katherine, he vowed silently to himself, if it's the last thing I do, I will earn your forgiveness.

Anne leaned against the wall of the carriage, her mind still on the poor young woman who'd died before her. The girl had been so scared, as had Anne, but she'd done her best to comfort her in those final moments. Her father sat across from her, watching her with worried eyes but she knew he wasn't so much worried for her as he was about the king's waning affection for her. She didn't even realize she'd been speaking to herself until her father's voice broke through her thoughts.

"How do you feel?"

She mustered a smile for him, but he just looked even more concerned. "I'm fine, papa,"she assured, her gaze returning to the small window of their coach.

"You're sure? What are you saying? 'Because of my maid, I'm certain to be contaminated?'" he queried, leaning forward to gaze at her worriedly.

"No, of course not," she denied, before gasping for breath. I can't breathe, she thought, horror flooding her. Hadn't her maid complained of the same thing, towards the end?

"What is it?"

"I can't breathe,"she told him in panic, sitting up and gasping. "I can't breathe!"

"Stop the coach," Thomas demanded, turning over his shoulder to yell at the driver. "Stop the coach!"

"I can't breathe," Anne muttered, hastily pushing open the door before the driver could fully bring his team to a halt. Jumping down, she began walking, pulling her hood from her hair even as tears began to well in her eyes. The driver ushered his team after her and she could distantly hear her father calling her name but it didn't matter anymore. "Drive on," she told the driver, ignoring her father's continued calling of her name. The tears that had remained unshed this far began falling down her face, mingling with the sweat now pouring off her.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes - Eesh, I thought last chapter was a pain to write. This one was worse! This chapter is dedicated to Lady Geanna, who's encouraged me with her reviews and messages back and fourth. Thanks also to anonymous reviewer Stacey, your review made me smile on a really bad day. As always, I hope everyone likes and drops me a review with their thoughts. Next chapter should be up in a few days, I'm hoping anyway. Don't quote me on it but I'm gonna try.

It wasn't so much the being alone that had Henry going crazy within the span of a day. It was the silence. Since he was a young boy at court, he'd never once seen any of the royal residences this quiet, not even when his mother died. Almost everyone at court had packed up and fled within hours of hearing that the sweat had reached London. Servants, too, had been ushered off and now there was only a bare-bones staff with him. Lack of sleep, for fear of the sweat, had put dark circles under his eyes and now he could swear he was hearing things.

Prowling around his chambers like a caged animal, he fought to stay awake even now. When ever he did fall asleep, nightmares plagued him relentlessly. Horrible dreams of Katherine dying before she forgave him, even ones of both her and their daughter dying of the sweat. More often than not, when he awoke from these, he'd be covered in a cold sweat which would send him into a panic. Katherine had sent him a letter when she'd arrived at Ludlow to inform him of her safe arrival and convey their daughter's love. Clearly, if something had happened to them, he'd be notified.

Katherine's parting words still bothered him more than he'd ever admit. Was he really such a terrible husband to her? Sure, he'd had mistresses aplenty over the years, especially when his wife was in confinement and awaiting birth. It was his right as the king, and he was hardly the first man to do so, be they of noble birth or common. This whole mess with Anne had been to make sure that the Tudor line did not end with him. Henry VII had worked far too hard to have the Tudor's end with his second born son. It wasn't unheard of for a bastard to inherit the throne, and indeed he'd begun making overtures for little Henry Fitzroy to become king in the event of his death. Before anything was finalized, his little boy had died and once again, Henry had been left with a girl as his only heir.

Anne had promised him sons, and he'd been ready to believe that perhaps Katherine was the problem. He'd tried everything in his power to simply get Katherine to step aside but she'd refused time and again. The Pope had refused to rule on the matter, instead sending some cardinal to come to England and poke around his affairs. Anne had been the one to suggest perhaps that he shouldn't listen to the Pope and divorce Katherine on his terms. Thomas More had been horrified when Henry had brought it up, telling him that there was no way the other monarchs would support his decision. The idea had merit but in the end, More was right. He couldn't afford to break with the Church, especially considering he was married to the aunt of the Holy Roman Emperor.

"I have forgiven you many things, but I do not know how to forgive you this time." His wife's words echoed around in his mind, making him almost yell aloud in frustration. How was he to earn her forgiveness and favors again? Jewels, clothes perhaps? It worked with other women at court, he'd noticed, and always seemed to work with Anne. At the thought of Anne, he cringed. Katherine would surely NOT appreciate the comparison as her disdain for Anne was known to everyone at court. Perhaps if he did something just for her? A masque, he mused before brightening. A joust! Of course! He would order a joust after the mourning period that would be observed for the deceased and ride with her favors as her Sir Loyal Heart again. That was a good start, he figured, already making plans. What else could he do?

Dr. Lincare had told them it was good to get out in the country air, so Katherine and Mary walked together for an hour each day. This day was no different, as the two strolled arm and arm through the small gardens attached to Ludlow. Both women's ladies-in-waiting trailed behind them, giving mother and daughter a semblance of privacy. "Papa asked you to forgive him?" Mary questioned in low Spanish, eyes going wide at the thought. Perhaps God was finally answering her many pleas for Him to show her father the error of his ways. "What did you say?"

Katherine sighed heavily, her eyes trailing over the various flowers blooming around them. She'd enjoyed these past few weeks with her daughter and they'd spent the past two weeks catching the other up on everything happening around them. "I told him I wasn't sure if I could forgive him this," she admitted after a moment, seeing that her daughter was clearly not willing to let the subject drop.

"But you must!" Mary urged only to cower slightly when her mother gave her a dark look. "That is, I mean," she began, before her mother just shook her head.

"I know how you must feel, Mary," Katherine began, patting her daughter's hand gently. "But you do not understand. I have been your father's loyal and true wife for many years and he tried to set me aside. Which means that you, also, would be set aside and likely declared a bastard. How can I forgive him for wanting to do that not only to me, but to you as well?"

The idea rocked Mary to the core. It hadn't even occurred to her that if her father succeeded in ridding himself of her mother, that perhaps he'd find a way to rid himself of his daughter. She was his daughter, the pearl of his world! He'd told King Francis this, and even her cousin, the Emperor. The thought made it hard to breathe for a moment. "He would... you think he would do that?" she asked, her voice small and frightened.

"It would stand to reason," Katherine pointed out sadly, even as her heart ached for Mary. "He had begun to try and have his bastard son recognized as his heir before the poor boy died, God rest his soul." She'd been furious when she'd found out about that. Her daughter had the blood of Isabella of Castile in her veins! Mary was just as capable as any man because of this, in her opinion. Unfortunately, her husband disagreed with her and had made his opinion on this matter perfectly clear.

Closing her eyes, Mary breathed deeply. She knew that her father desired a son above all things, but she'd never once thought that her father would try and rid himself of her because of this. "I forgive him," she finally said, opening her eyes and meeting her mother's startled gaze. "The bible admonishes us to forgive those who have done us harm and to honor thy mother and father. To continue to honor my father, I must forgive him. If I can forgive him, mama, you should too."

Not expecting this response, Katherine remained silent, not sure what to tell her daughter. Yes, the bible instructed them in forgiveness, but it also admonished husbands to honor their wives. Henry certainly hadn't done that in quite sometime, not since the birth of their son who'd died some short weeks later in her arms. "If he will treat me as his wife again, as a man is supposed to behave towards his wife, I can forgive him," she agreed finally.

In the end, hundreds of people died of the sweat. Henry had been startled when William Compton came to the memorial service, at least twenty pounds lighter and pale as cheese. The other man gave his king a weak smile as he leaned heavily on a cane and settled into one of the pews. Both Charles and Mary, dressed in somber black, sat behind the royal pew. Mary was crying silently and Brandon just looked shell-shocked, a feeling Henry could relate to. They'd lost two of their children to the sweat, so Henry had been shocked when they'd arrived for the service. Katherine had greeted her sister-in-law with a hug, and whatever she'd told Mary seemed to help in some way. She'd greeted Henry with marked courtesy, taking his arm as he escorted her to the royal pew.

Henry stared blankly ahead, eyes curiously distant even as strands of the ethereal requiem filled the church. Katherine appeared every inch the queen she'd been raised to be, her head bowed and her rosary wrapped around her hands, mouthing silent prayers for the deceased. News had come shortly after the threat of the sickness had passed that Anne had contracted and survived the sweat, which had both relieved him and made him panic. People like Wolsey had contracted the same and had died, and while he mourned them, he didn't quite know what to do now that Anne had survived. It would have been easier if she'd died, he'd thought at first, before feeling guilty for even thinking it. He'd been even more thrilled that both his wife and child had been spared, as had the ladies that attended them both. Now, with Anne still living and Katherine returned to court, Henry didn't know what to do. Possibly Thomas More would know what he should do? He'd consult with the man as quick as possible. He needed to consult with the man anyway about the joust he wanted to have, so it made sense to do both at the same time. Bowing his head, he began praying with the rest of the court, only instead of prayers for the dead like everyone else, he prayed for guidance on how to win his wife back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes- I really don't like the tail end of this chapter, but I felt the need to wrap it up before it got way out of hand. Not too happy with the little jousting scene either, but I've never been good with writing action scenes. As always, read, review and most importantly, enjoy!

Sitting in the shade of the royal box, Katherine clapped politely with the other courtiers as the Duke of Suffolk bested his opponent with a might crash of lances. To celebrate the disappearance of the mysterious sweating sickness, Henry had decided to hold a joust with a masque to follow afterwards. Katherine had not wanted to leave Ludlow, or Mary, but had little choice in the matter so here she was. Sighing inwardly, she smiled and nodded as another young jouster bowed and held out his lance for the favors of one of her giggling ladies. Upon receiving Katherine's nod of approval, the young woman untied the colored ribbon from her wrist and tied it around the tip of the man's proffered lance. The woman settled down with a little blush and clapped politely as his name was announced. The queen didn't give him too much thought until his opponent was announced.

"Sir Loyal Heart makes the challenge, à la plaisance!"

Henry couldn't be serious, she thought briefly. There was no way her husband had arranged this whole thing, just to joust for her under the name he'd once gladly rode under with her favors. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the king's white destrier trotted up to the royal box. Lifting the visor on his helmet, Henry offered her what seemed to be a genuine smile as a gasp went up from the crowd. "My lady, will you do the honor of letting me wear your favors?" he asked, lowering his lance to lean against the railing.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited for her to respond. Clearly unwilling but having no choice, she rose to her feet and pulled the ribbon off her wrist and gently retied it around his lance. A flash of something -annoyance?- crossed his face but he smiled gamely at her before retracting his lance and trotting off. Returning to her seat, she had to fight the urge to close her eyes as the two men spurred their horses on towards one another. The young man, either scared of harming the king or vastly inexperienced, was quickly unhorsed by Henry's well placed lance. She clapped politely with the crowd and wondered privately how soon she could escape this charade.

What was he doing wrong?! Henry fought the urge to throw something. He'd held the joust predominately to garner his wife's attention, even riding in the lists as her Sir Loyal Heart again, with little success. Sure, he'd ended up winning the day, but that was hardly the point. Katherine had certainly not looked happy, even when he'd deliberately sought her out to ask for her favors. The masque, too, that he'd arranged for afterward had been a disaster as well. He'd had a new gown and even new jewels commissioned for her and while she'd worn them, she'd also left the dance early. What in the hell was he doing wrong?

"Your Majesty, Her Grace, the Duchess of Suffolk is here to see you."

Turning, he forced a smile as his sister was shown into his receiving room. "Sister," he greeted, bending slightly at the waist as she curtsied before him. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, brother," she replied with a tremulous smile, the loss of her two boys still stinging like a fresh wound that hadn't healed yet. "You wished to see me?"

"I need your help, Mary," he returned, helping her into a seat and pressing a glass of wine upon her. "Tell me what it is I seem to be doing wrong."

Well, this was certainly new. Henry, coming to his baby sister for help? "Of course, brother, I'd be glad to help," she agreed, sipping at her wine before setting it aside. "What is it?"

He proceeded to rant for a good twenty minutes as he paced back and forth, starting from the beginning when he'd confessed he still loved Katherine, to what seemed to be his biggest problem: nothing he did seemed to be working in his favor for winning his wife back. When he finally finished, he looked over at her to see his sister watching him shrewdly. "Well?" he demanded, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "What am I doing wrong?"

"May I speak frankly?" she asked, before continuing at his nod. "Henry, has it occurred to you that Katherine is not the Lady Anne?"

Sputtering, he looked at her in disbelief. He'd asked her for help, being the only female he knew that wouldn't try and seduce him, and here she was telling him what was completely obvious to anyone and everyone. "Of course I know she's not the Lady Anne!" he snapped incredulously.

"Do you?" she returned, arching her brows at him in mock surprise. "You certainly aren't acting like you do. You're doing all the things you would do for a woman who is your mistress. Jewels, gowns, jousts and masques. Do any of those things honestly sound like the woman you married?"

Well... no, not when she put it like that. Huffing, he flung himself into the seat opposite of his sister and refused to meet her knowing gaze. "No," he finally muttered, glancing at her and wanting to throttle the smug look off her face. Damn her anyway! He'd sought her out for advice on how to win his wife back, not to be lectured on how he was failing by treating Katherine like one of his mistresses.

Mary shook her head and sighed. Her brother had a reputation for being a great seducer but she personally thought it had more to do with him being the king than anything else. "Do you really want your wife back or are you just saying that because she hasn't forgiven you yet?" she finally asked gently, inwardly bracing herself for an explosion of his infamous temper.

"Of course I want her back!" he exclaimed incredulously, throwing his hands up in a frustrated gesture. "I wouldn't be doing all these things if I didn't!"

"So why not do something just for her?" she asked, before shaking her head and cutting him off when he went to reply. "You haven't been doing these things for her, Henry, you've been doing them for yourself."

"Well, then, what do you suggest?" he questioned, and even as the words left his mouth he knew exactly the thing to do.

'You've come back from the dead! Do you know what this means? You can go back to the king!'

Anne remembered very little of being ill, only remembering the day she woke from her feverish sleep. George had told her she called repeatedly for their mother, but she recalled none of it. Only her father's fervent words at her recovery rang in her ears. He didn't care that his daughter had lived, he only cared that she had survived and could continue to try and seduce the king and eventually become queen. Sitting by the window overlooking the court yard, her spirits lifted briefly when a group of riders dressed in the Tudor livery rode in. Her gaze darted from rider to rider but instead of seeing the king like she'd expected, her gaze found the form of the Duke of Suffolk. Maybe the Duke had irritated the king and had been ordered to retrieve her for court? Rising to her feet, she picked her skirts up and rushed from the room, only slowing her steps at the top of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down and began her descent.

"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk!"

"Your Grace," Thomas Boleyn greeted, the title sticking in his craw even as he proffered Brandon a bow and an insincere smile. "We were expecting his Majesty," he began before being cut off.

"My Lord Rochford," Brandon greeted, barely bending at the waist in a semblance of a bow. "I come with a message for your family."

Anne eased into the room, curtsying to Suffolk before glancing at her father. "Your Grace," she greeted, moving to stand next to her father.

"Lady Anne," Charles greeted, nodding his head at the young woman, who was paler and seemed thinner than the last time he'd seen her. "His Majesty wishes to inform you that while he is grateful you have made a full recovery, he wishes you and your family to remain here in Hever until he summons you again." The words clearly hit home, with Anne going pale and moving to a richly furnished chair, which she collapsed into.

Thomas Boleyn colored, paled and colored again. "You mean to tell me that we are banished from court?" he blustered, back straightening and his tone clearly belaying his anger at the situation. A few short months ago, they'd had everything going for them. Henry was still pushing the issue of a divorce and Wolsey was falling ever more from favor. Now, Suffolk of all people, was here telling them they were banished from court.

"It appears so," Charles agreed, fighting back a smile. He'd never liked Thomas Boleyn and had hated being in debt to the man when he'd helped make amends between him and the king when he'd married the king's sister without permission. "Good day, my lord." With that, Brandon turned swiftly on his heel and made his way out.

"Mama!"

Katherine looked up from her sewing in surprise as Mary rushed into her rooms. "Mary!" she cried in delight, setting aside her sewing and rising in time to meet her daughter's embrace. "What ever are you doing here?" she asked, pulling away and gazing at her daughter fondly.

"Papa sent for me," Mary replied, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Lady Salisbury hadn't been thrilled when the letter arrived from the king, ordering her to bring Mary to court but the older woman really had no choice in the matter.

Surprise coursed through Katherine at her daughter's words. Henry had sent for Mary to come to court? She'd tried to have her daughter brought back to court in the past, but had never succeeded. "Truly?" she asked, searching her daughter's gaze momentarily.

"Truly, mama. He told Lady Salisbury that it was time for me to come back to court and learn to be a lady," she agreed, almost bouncing in her excitement. Part of her hoped that her father was beginning to realize that she could be just as efficient a ruler as any boy but the rest of her was simply happy to be with her mama and papa again.

"I'm so happy you're here," Katherine told her, pulling her in for another hug, a genuine smile lighting her features for the first time since she'd left her daughter back at Ludlow.


End file.
